The Stumbling Block
by KLessard
Summary: On the year following the Grollier Hall trials, Constable Benton Fraser is transferred from Chicago to the Northwest Territories where he is reunited with his half-sister in Inuvik. Constable MacKenzie's Inuvialuit friend asks for help as she discovers her young daughter was abused by her uncle, a former residential school student.


It was a mild day in September and Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was making his way to a small trailer on the outskirts of Inuvik. The thirty-something man was happy to feel the ground under his feet after spending twenty hours sitting on an airplane. He never got used to it, although he'd made the trip several times before. He probably wouldn't fly for a good while now. Diefenbaker, the wolfdog who'd become his companion after pulling him from Prince Rupert's icy waters was scampering ahead, barking back at the occasional husky dog greeting him with curiosity. Following a recent transfer to the Northwest Territories, Fraser had returned to his birthplace and looked at the familiar buildings with great fondness. The "Place of Man" told its own tale of survival and fusion with the land. Humble yet colourful, this network of houses spread in irregular rows on the Mackenzie Delta reflected its residents' hardiness and taste for freedom. Fraser walked past Our Lady of Victory, locally known as the Igloo Church, and thought to himself that this fine construction compared very favourably with Chicago's cathedrals. A drunken Inuvialuk was lying on the church's steps, an empty bottle in his hand.  
"Can I be of assistance, sir?" Fraser asked, in Inuvialuktun.  
The man did not reply.

Constable Margaret MacKenzie was stacking birch logs for the fire pit when a speck of white drew her attention to the street.  
"Diefenbaker?"  
The wolfdog jumped up and set his front paws on the woman's hips. MacKenzie almost fell over.  
"Are you alone?" she asked, burying her fingers in the canine's thick fur.  
Diefenbaker turned to the street, barking wildly until a man wearing a Stetson hat appeared behind the trailer.  
"Maggie?"  
Constable Fraser exchanged a shy smile with his half-sister.  
"Hey, how was your trip?"  
"Pretty good."  
"And you?" she asked the wolf. "How was the baggage hold?"  
Diefenbaker grumbled.  
Fraser dropped his bag on the grass and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the young woman. He thought it was the thing to do; he very much wanted to do it as well. He was about to pull away when he realized MacKenzie was still holding tight. He didn't know what to make of it, so he held on until she let go. How strange! Blood ties sure were a powerful thing. They'd only met a few months before and barely knew each other, but she meant so much to him already.  
"So this is the trailer? I can definitely tell your mother was a trapper," Fraser declared, indicating the moose antlers above the door. "Did you live here with Casey?"  
"No, I moved here after…I sold the house, I couldn't stay."  
"I understand."

Diefenbaker was up on the porch sniffing two gutted hares hanging from the railing.  
"That's for supper, I caught them today. Will it be enough for the three of us?"  
"If Diefenbaker wants more, he can get his own. A run on the tundra will do him a world of good."  
"I was thinking of sleeping out by the fire pit tonight. Mosquito season is over; we might as well enjoy the nice weather while we can. You two can join me if you like, I have an extra sleeping bag. Unless you want to get back to your place?"  
"No, I'd like that."  
"I bet you didn't get to camp much in Chicago?"  
"Oh, I did sleep out in an old lady's backyard, once."  
"Really?"

Diefenbaker looked on the bush beyond. He was very still for a moment, then sprang forth and ran into the distance.  
"Off he goes. I'm sure he missed the North, even if he refuses to admit it."

MacKenzie took the hares off the railing and stepped inside to prepare their evening meal. Fraser offered to peel the potatoes and watched in awe as his sister pulled the fur off, skilfully carving the animals' flesh without even thinking about it. There was something suddenly fearsome about her, bloody fingers and all, but as unsettling as this was, he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride. MacKenzie asked a few questions about her brother's work in the city and Fraser took over, turning the conversation into a long monologue that only ended as daylight began to wane. Diefenbaker had returned from his escapade, eager to sample the pot's contents as Fraser removed it from the open fire. The man quit talking for a while to swallow his food. Perched on a low camping chair, he smiled to himself as MacKenzie added wood to the fire to keep the flame aglow.  
Diefenbaker inquired about a second serving.  
"How many hares did you have out there? Maggie barely had any."  
"That's fine, I've had enough," she replied, sitting across from them on an old tree trunk. "He can have it."  
Fraser emptied the pot into the wolf's bowl and continued his Chicago tales. Constable Fraser had been grieved to leave his city friends behind, particularly his work partners from the Consulate and Police Department. Strong bonds had been created during those five years, and there had been much crying and heartbreak at the precinct. Fraser had felt torn, but homesickness had become unbearable and the thought of being reunited with his sister had given him a definite incentive to move back North. Yet, he now realized something was off. Maggie was different. He had expected to find a tough, spirited woman like the one he had gotten to know a few months before, but MacKenzie was taciturn, thin and colourless. Even her eyes, so unnaturally large and expressive, looked dull and betrayed profound fatigue. He was doing all the talking and she had barely uttered a word since his arrival.  
"You're thoughtful, Maggie," Fraser observed. "Is there something bothering you?"  
"Bothering me? No. I'm quite relieved actually…I'm glad you're here."  
"Relieved? How so?"  
"I don't know…I've been feeling kind of depressed lately. Thinking about Casey."  
"I see."  
MacKenzie kept poking at the fire silently.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"Oh well…"  
"Is it because he hadn't been exactly truthful with you?"  
MacKenzie looked up.  
"…I don't like it," she said, somewhat defensively. "But I think I can understand why he did it. Like my mother…I suppose she meant to protect our reputation by letting everyone believe her late husband was my father."  
"Did you tell anyone?"  
"A few of my closest friends. Everyone at the detachment knows. You know how news can get around in a place like this. I don't want to hide it. People will find out anyway, now that you're back."  
"They're both gone now. We are not responsible for their choices."  
"That's true."  
"...How did your mother die exactly? You never told me."  
"She had a heart attack while checking her traps in the bush. It was bitterly cold. I don't know if we could have saved her, but it was definitely too late when we found her."  
"I'm sorry…Are you depressed about all this?"  
MacKenzie shrugged.  
"…When Casey was murdered, I think my thirst for justice kept me going until we caught the Torellis. But when I came home, I really felt my loss. I've been feeling very lonely since."  
"Why didn't you call me?"  
"It took me a while to figure it out. I felt confused and stupid."  
"Stupid? It's not stupid to mourn, Maggie. We all need to mourn at times."  
"Yes, I guess so."  
"He was your husband. I can imagine how difficult it is to move on."

MacKenzie looked down and shed a discreet tear. She had kept her sorrow to herself for months, but this compassion opened the floodgates in an instant. Fraser's heart sank. He left his chair and sat down on the trunk, drawing his sister to his side.  
"Maggie, you should have called me. I don't like to find you like this."  
MacKenzie welcomed this human warmth. She did not mind being needy for once. She thought she could be needy with a brother; he would somewhat understand. Having a sibling was a novelty and she sometimes wondered how she should feel about it, but things seemed to flow naturally, as if human beings were wondrously wired for it.  
"At least I knew," she mumbled, after a moment.  
"Knew what?"  
"About you. And Dad. It gave me something to look forward to when I felt my life was over."  
"It's not over, Maggie. I assure you."  
"You know, when you personally face injustice, you get to understand."  
"Understand what?"  
"…Some winter nights, I feel like we're walking through a never-ending tunnel. Things are not getting better around here, you know. Crime rate's still going through the roof. Just a shift on the Saturday night drunk tank is enough to make you sick. What are we really doing here? What are we? White men picking up white men's pieces? We broke their spirit, Benton."  
"The Inuit?"  
"Some days, I just can't face them. Even my friends. I wonder what they're thinking and not telling me."  
"I doubt they're holding you personally responsible for their pain. You're doing your best to bring them justice."  
"Am I? Our efforts seem so useless and inadequate at times. It's a cycle."  
Diefenbaker laid his muzzle on MacKenzie's knees. Night had fallen, imposing its cold black sky and vibrant stars; Fraser had forgotten how bright they appeared in the territories. The man spoke no more but lifted his head in reverent contemplation.

Fraser and MacKenzie washed up, slipped into their sleeping bags and soon succumbed to slumber as the crackling fire died down in the pit.

A rosy glow had lightened up the morning sky when an Inuvialuit woman holding a young child by the hand came knocking on the trailer door. The child wandered away at the sight of an undulating wisp of smoke rising from Fraser and MacKenzie's fire. At the sound of shuffling, MacKenzie awoke and laid startled eyes on her four-year-old goddaughter whose sleepy face looked pale and forlorn.  
"Aluki?"  
MacKenzie sat up in her sleeping bag and pulled the child to her to make her sit on her lap. Aluki didn't resist but fidgeted as if in pain.  
"Maggie?"  
The woman ran up to them and knelt down, profoundly agitated.  
"Sarah, what are you doing here?"  
"Maggie, I need your help."  
"What is it?"  
"…I left her to my uncle Fred last night…He got drunk."  
Sarah choked up. MacKenzie's eyes opened wide.  
"She was asleep when I got home…I found her bruised with blood in her underwear this morning."  
"What?"  
Sarah was trembling. MacKenzie's shock soon turned to grief.  
"…What, Fred did this to her?"  
"She says so. But someone else must have dropped by. There was no alcohol in the house, I'd made sure of it. And he didn't bring any. Maggie, I don't know what to do, he's still lying there on the couch."  
"He's in the house?"  
"He's passed out in the living room."

Awoken by the women's voices, Constable Fraser opened his eyes and observed the scene from his bed of grass. He dared not move a muscle. What a violent start.  
Muffled sobs rose from Aluki's chest and she looked away towards the bush. MacKenzie wondered whether the child understood the gravity of their conversation or if physical discomfort was the reason for her restlessness. Perhaps moral confusion had begun to seep in and dig its bitter roots within her.  
"She's in pain," MacKenzie cried. "Take her to the doctor. I'll take care of it."  
Sarah Kudlak hurried away with her daughter while MacKenzie tried to come to grips with this new challenge. Fraser sat up and their eyes met. MacKenzie jumped into her grey uniform, Fraser donned his Stetson and they made their way to a white house two streets away from theirs.  
"Where is Aluki's father?" Fraser asked as they reached the porch.  
"He's a bush pilot. He can be gone for extended periods, sometimes."  
MacKenzie knocked on the door.  
"Has Fred Elias manifested abusive behaviour in the past?"  
"No, Sarah would have never left her with him. I can hardly believe he would do such a thing. He has a drinking problem, like many of Grollier Hall's former students, but he has never harmed anyone but himself."  
MacKenzie peeked through the living room window.  
"Fred? Fred, it's Constable MacKenzie. Open the door."  
There was no reply. MacKenzie knocked again.  
"RCMP! Frederick Elias, you're under arrest for sexual assault."  
There was a loud scream and a sound of furniture being knocked over. Fraser was about to force the lock but found the door opened. The officers walked in to see the middle-aged man run away through the back door. Fraser and MacKenzie gave chase and followed Elias through the streets and into the bush. Some early risers watched from their porches with both alarm and curiosity. The constables could hear Elias whimper as he ran; they ran faster but he had considerably outpaced them. The boreal forest provided effective cover and made it difficult to move around. The officers slowed down to catch their breath and look for suspicious movement and sounds. After hiking for over half an hour, Fraser spotted a mature balsam poplar and climbed it for a better view.  
"I see movement!" he declared, pointing north. "It's coming our way."  
"What?"  
A dark mass appeared behind the thin birches beyond.  
"Benton, come down." MacKenzie whispered. "It's a black bear. Come down, please. Slowly."  
The beast of significant size was now in full view. MacKenzie began to back away while Fraser came down one branch at a time. A twig cracked under his foot and the bear grunted.  
"Did you see any carcass from up there?"  
"No."  
"Do you have your pepper spray on you? I left mine at home."  
"I didn't bring any."  
Fraser reached the ground; the bear blew loudly and charged.  
"It's a bluff," MacKenzie said. "Come on."  
"What about Elias?"  
"The bear looks nervous, Benton, I don't like it. Please come."  
Fraser and MacKenzie walked away, opting to return to town and pursue their search later with Diefenbaker's assistance.  
"I'm going to the detachment to fill out the paperwork," MacKenzie said.  
"I want to go back to the house and look for evidence."  
The constables went their separate ways; Fraser was a few steps away from the Kudlaks' house when Diefenbaker met up with him.  
"Where were you?" Fraser asked, crossly. "We could have really used your help out there."  
The wolf tagged along and sniffed around the porch while Fraser tasted dirt and grass blades from the doorstep. He examined the empty vodka bottle Fred Elias had left on the living room floor and headed for the Inuvik liquor store.

Constable Fraser joined MacKenzie at the RCMP detachment an hour later. He found her talking to a hefty red-haired man sporting a neatly trimmed moustache.  
"Constable Fraser?"  
"Sergeant Matthews," Fraser answered, shaking his new superior's hand.  
"So you haven't started yet and I hear you're already on a case?"  
"It would seem so, yes."  
"'Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit,'" said Matthews, who had a habit of quoting Scripture. "I like it."  
"Did you find anything?" MacKenzie asked.  
"Unfortunately, yes. I am just back from the liquor store where I discovered Fred Elias is on a two-week ban for repeatedly trying to make a purchase while intoxicated. He couldn't have obtained his alcohol legally."  
"Bootleggers," MacKenzie fumed.  
"Could one of the bootleggers be responsible for the abuse?" was Sergeant Matthews' question.  
"Aluki Kudlak identified her great-uncle Fred as the culprit. And he did run away from us when we came to arrest him. But we'll only get confirmation once we get lab results and fingerprint identification."  
Matthews glanced at the young woman intently.  
"Constable MacKenzie, you are close to the victim's family, I believe?"  
"That's right, sir."  
"Perhaps it would be wiser to let another officer handle this case. We all know how zealous you can become under such circumstances."  
"Sir, Sarah Kudlak came to me for help, I can't let her down. Besides, you keep reminding us how important it is to establish a bond of trust with the Inuit. I have been able to do so with both victims and suspect; certainly this will be to our advantage."  
"Watch it, MacKenzie. It's a delicate balance."  
"I know, sir."  
"Constable Fraser, can I trust you to be your sister's keeper?"  
"Yes, sir."  
MacKenzie shot a side-glance at her brother. Did he mean to reassure Sergeant Matthews or really keep a close eye on her? There was an air of innocence and sincerity in Fraser's expression that left her feeling uneasy about the matter. She was mortified to note that her superior did not think of her as dependable. He had occasionally expressed distrust since her suspension over her husband's murder case a few months earlier; it made her head spin to look back and assess how bold and irresponsible she had been. She now questioned her own reliability.

A warrant was issued for Frederick Elias; Fraser and MacKenzie met Sarah Kudlak in the afternoon to collect evidence and proceed to questioning. Fraser took samples and fingerprints from Aluki's room while MacKenzie interrogated the mother about the event. The constables met in the hallway from which they could see the child kneeling on the sofa. Aluki was looking out through the sheer curtains, a furry seal figurine in her hand.  
"Are you ready to conduct the interview?" MacKenzie whispered to her brother.  
"You want me to interview the girl?"  
"For neutrality's sake. It's procedure. She knows me too well."  
"But you're a woman. You should be asking her those questions. She'd feel safer with you."  
"I can't, I'm an authority figure in her life. I might influence her answers. That's why Sergeant Matthews thought I shouldn't take the case."  
Fraser swallowed hard. Knowing the procedure was one thing, being confronted to a crime was another. He had rarely dealt with this type of abuse and this was the youngest victim he'd ever had to work with. The constable took a long look at the child; he had only met Aluki Kudlak but she struck him as highly introverted. How would he manage to make her talk? And if he did, wouldn't a misplaced word or question break this fragile thing?  
"Are you sure?"  
"You're a gentler officer than I am. She'll feel safe with you, I know it."  
"Should I approach her with play or drawings?"  
"Don't beat around the bush. She won't like it. She's very bright. You can be straightforward, but be gentle."  
Fraser nodded.  
"Sarah and I will have a little talk with her before you start. Let me get the recording equipment."

The camera was set and Aluki prepared for her interview. Sarah and MacKenzie retreated to the kitchen, standing still and keeping a sharp ear out. Fraser sat on a chair across the girl seated in the middle of the sofa. He tried to be as warm and supportive as he could, but felt deeply uncomfortable; Aluki was aware of this and stared guardedly. Her dark, penetrating gaze was fixed upon the constable and his notepad to establish whether she could trust him or not. Fraser wondered if MacKenzie hadn't unconsciously begun to transmit her policing techniques to her godchild.  
"Well, first of all, I would like to thank you for cooperating with us on this investigation, Aluki."

Fraser attempted a smile. It was only met with silence.

"I am going to ask you a few questions about what happened last night. But first, I want to give you an occasion to describe the event as you remember it."  
A glint of fear appeared in the child's eye. She felt a need for protection and curled up on the cushions, looking away towards the kitchen. Shame was now associated with what had been done to her and she felt a sudden pain in her lower abdomen. She was repulsed at the thought of this stranger knowing about her dishonour and having to describe it to him. Something had been torn from her but she didn't quite understand what or why.  
Fraser felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn't let his emotions transpire; communicating a sense of security to his interlocutor was key. What he had feared was happening as Aluki's mouth remained shut. Through self-discipline, Fraser assumed a confident tone:  
"Your mother left for a meeting last night, Aluki?"  
"Yes."  
"Where were you at that moment?"  
"In bed."  
"You were already in bed. Were you asleep?"  
"No, not yet."  
"What happened then?"  
"I heard my mother talk to Uncle Fred and leave."  
"I see. After your mother left, did you see or hear anyone come in the house besides your great-uncle Fred?"  
"No, I heard the TV. I fell asleep."  
"You fell asleep. All right. Did anything disrupt your sleep?"  
Aluki stared off into space. She became silent once more and laboured breathing was her sole answer to Fraser's question. Distressing images and sensations tumbled in her mind as she tried to escape this inner chaos. The silence lasted a full minute. But Aluki Kudlak's will imposed order and enabled her to speak:  
"I woke up when Uncle Fred came into my room and took my clothes off."

* * *

No call came to signal Fred Elias' presence. Fingerprint identification confirmed the man's intrusion into Aluki Kudlak's bedroom and no other suspect could be identified. Fraser and MacKenzie were up early the next day, making their way to Elias' house on the west side of town. Diefenbaker was brought to sniff the premises. The officers approached the brown building on piles where a plywood sheet had been nailed over a broken window. After knocking several times, MacKenzie found the door unlocked and walked in. She had never been inside but immediately thought the clutter she'd just found reflected Elias' misery. The kitchen table and counters were littered with empty beer and vodka bottles, and the floor hadn't been swept in weeks. Escaping reality was Elias' only concern; ignored responsibilities piled up and material possessions crumbled as intoxication sucked him into its blissful haze.  
"This mans' life is mere survival," Fraser observed. "Has he ever been married?"  
"No, he's pretty lonesome. That's why Sarah's been trying to include him in her family life, you know."  
"I don't think he's been in here."  
Fraser couldn't find any clear sign of the man's recent presence so he examined mud stains on the doormat. MacKenzie had a taste herself and concluded the dry clumps were at least a day old.  
"We can ask the neighbours."  
"Do you think he could still be in the bush?"  
"Quite likely. There are a few hunting cabins out there; he could have broken into one, found some food or gone fishing on one of the lakes. It would be worth taking a drive with Diefenbaker and have a look around."  
"Could he be hiding with the bootleggers?"  
"That would surprise me."

The constables stepped outside and Fraser noticed an old Inuvialuit woman carrying a heavy grocery bag to a nearby house.  
"Madam, let me help you with that," he said, taking the bag and holding the door for her.  
The lady smiled and thanked him cordially.  
"You didn't happen to see Frederick Elias in the last 24 hours, did you?"  
"Fred? No, I haven't seen him."  
"Do you know him well?"  
"He sits on the porch sometimes when the weather's nice and we greet each other."  
"If you happen to see him, would you have the kindness to call the RCMP detachment?"  
"Is Fred in some kind of trouble?"  
"I'm afraid so, yes."  
"Oh my!"  
MacKenzie watched and listened. The woman's reaction was sincere. Fraser could sure talk too much, but he had a way with people. She had been rather impressed at how he had handled Aluki Kudlak's interview and felt he had done a much better job than she would have. His politeness and odd candour put potential witnesses at ease, so she let him do the talking as they interrogated the west side's residents and Sarah Kudlak's neighbours about Elias and the bootlegging operation. She kept at a distance, analyzing the interlocutor's body language and ocular movement to determine whether he was hiding something or not. Most were unaware of any illegal activity, but some were and lied for fear of retaliation.  
"Many of these people feel threatened, Benton," MacKenzie said, after a while. "I don't know what's going on, but it's worse than we think."  
The liquor store was their final stop. Fraser hereby hoped to obtain a major lead, but MacKenzie remained pessimistic. A certain Daniel Smith was found behind the counter; MacKenzie knew him well as a former elementary school classmate. A strange tension existed between them, although they had never really had an argument. Smith had always felt intimidated by the trapper's daughter; as a child she was tougher than most boys and outsmarted them at their own pranks. She would readily grab a spider by the legs and take it outside while other girls ran for their lives. When he had heard that she'd become a law enforcement officer and didn't hesitate to fight men if need be, his awe had only grown exponentially.  
"Good morning, Mr Smith," Fraser greeted. "My name is Constable Benton Fraser and I was wondering if you could grant us a minute of your time."  
"Sure," Smith replied with forced composure.  
"The RCMP is currently investigating a bootlegging operation out of Inuvik; we would like to know if you'd noticed any unusual transactions taking place in recent weeks such as a customer purchasing large amounts of alcohol for resale on a regular basis?"  
MacKenzie had been careful to stand on the side and keep as quiet as possible to study Smith's expression, but her very presence made the man nervous and he shot regular glances at the young woman.  
"Bootleggers? Oh, you know how this works. They got tricks and all…They split up in teams, they pay airline passengers to carry the cases for them; they say it's for personal use. It's never the same guy and I couldn't tell who's involved. They might just be buying for a big party, and there are no restrictions, so…"  
"Could you still think of one or two individuals in particular? Anyone you would know by name?"  
"No, I'm sorry. I wish I could help you."  
MacKenzie leaned on the counter and looked at Smith fixedly.  
"You do know, Dan. Why don't you give us a name?"  
Smith's sense of self-preservation was stronger than the apprehension Margaret MacKenzie inspired in him. He stared back as if her question was a trifle naïve.  
"I don't want to have my house set on fire, Maggie. Can you understand that?"  
Constable MacKenzie was taken aback.  
"Did you receive this kind of threat?"  
"What do you think?"  
"Your deposition could be completely anonymous," Fraser added.  
"Yeah, like that would make a difference. If anybody snitches, we'll be the first ones targeted. We're in the best position to know everything."  
"This is why you should do the right thing and tell us what you know. Bringing this operation down would make a considerable difference for the whole Delta. We are trying to help, Mr Smith, so you don't have to live in fear."  
"God only knows how deep this network goes. I'm sorry, I just can't take that risk. You can shovel the snow, but it will snow again. We'll never get rid of bootlegging. Not in these parts."  
Fraser managed to contain his frustration, but MacKenzie was incensed and already walking out of the establishment.  
"Thank you kindly, Mr Smith," Fraser said after a moment. "If you ever reconsider, please give us a call at the detachment."

Constable MacKenzie found herself downtown again that day after checking on Sarah and Aluki Kudlak to keep them informed about the investigation. Sarah had to run a few errands before her husband's hasty return and invited MacKenzie to join them after supper. The women and child stopped at the drugstore then walked past the Igloo Church. Sarah picked Aluki up into her arms to whisper something in her ear.  
"Maggie, can we stop for a bit? I'd like to light a candle for Aluki."  
"Sure."  
MacKenzie followed Sarah into the circular building. She hadn't been to the Igloo Church since the Grollier Hall trials, a year earlier. Her mother had never been a regular attendee; they lived deep into the bush and MacKenzie now knew the woman possibly felt conflicted about her adulterous relationship with Robert Fraser. She remembered attending Christmas and Easter masses as a child and going through the sacraments, but when Sarah had asked her to become Aluki's godmother, she felt she should start taking spiritual matters seriously if only to honour her new responsibility. The trials had changed everything. Being constantly exposed to the Church's involvement in the abuse of Aboriginal people through the residential school system had led her to question her very faith. She had mixed feelings about this building. Yes, she often heard about the collective work that had made this church possible –locals contributing hockey sticks to hold the structure together and young Mona Trasher deftly painting the Stations of the Cross as if led by the Creator himself– but what sort of hypocrisy was this? Our Lady of Victory was shaped as an igloo to celebrate the Inuit culture, yet this religion had worked so hard to trample it, plunging these people in deep confusion and leading them to self-destructive behaviour. What sort of victory was this? She dealt with the resulting high crime rate day after day. She wondered how Sarah could embrace this God in the name of whom so much harm had come to her people. She watched from one of the wooden benches as Sarah helped her young daughter place the votive candle on the shelf. MacKenzie reflected on what the abuse would produce in Aluki's life, how she would try to numb the pain like so many others, maybe consider taking her own life some day. The constable felt a lump in her throat. "Seriously, God?" she cried.

MacKenzie lay awake a long time in the dark that night. She was feeling blue once again and hated herself for being so emotional lately. Why couldn't she man up and carry out her task as she should? Yet, she thought there was a fundamental reason for her lingering despair, and she'd only put her finger on it as she'd voiced her angry prayer in the Igloo Church. MacKenzie was losing her faith. It had never been particularly strong like Sarah Kudlak's, but had provided a foundation, a belief in an orderly universe, the notion of an almighty God watching over all; no matter how remote Inuvik was in the world, "quelques arpents de neige," as Voltaire had so scornfully stated, someone always cared and could intervene if need be. She'd always taken this for granted, but now that this belief was wasting away, a horrible solitude had begun to drag her down the blackest of pits. Nothing made sense anymore. Existence was a random accident of history; her work in the force was hopeless; the Inuit's brokenness was here to stay. Hadn't Daniel Smith summed it up for her? "You can shovel the snow, but it will snow again." They would have to deal with it on their own with no higher power to rely on. And her confidence in man's goodness and might was at the lowest it had ever been.

Constable Fraser found his sister leafing through a series of documents the next day. He sat down by her desk and took a sip from his cup of tea.  
"Lab results are in," MacKenzie said. "Everything seems to corroborate Aluki's statement. I wonder how and where Fred met these bootleggers. Maybe he'd already bought the vodka, managed to hide it and Sarah didn't notice."  
"Maybe he called them up and met them on the street."  
"I wish we could force Dan Smith to talk."

Fraser noticed an old framed photograph on MacKenzie's desk representing a blonde woman wearing a fur-timmed parka and her miniature double by a lake.  
"Is that you and your mother when you were a child?" Fraser asked.  
"It is."  
"You sure look like her…I wish I'd known you back then."  
"Me too. You know, sometimes I wonder if my mother meant to tell me before she died, but she died too soon and too suddenly."  
"About Dad, you mean?"  
MacKenzie nodded.  
"It's possible."  
MacKenzie examined her mother's face for the hundredth time as if this piece of paper could provide additional information on the woman's intentions.  
"It really bothers me to know that both my mother and my husband lied to me in significant ways and I never realized it. I can usually tell. Even when I suspected Casey's involvement with those bank robbers, he told me he didn't know them and I just believed him."  
"'Love covereth a multitude of sins,' isn't that right? It 'beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things...'"  
"You're quoting Scripture like Sergeant Matthews, now?"  
"You loved them. You wanted to trust them."  
"It's not like me."  
"It's not like you to love?"  
"That's not what I mean. I don't trust easily. I mean…Do you really love someone when you lie to them in such a way?"  
"Are you afraid those lies mean they didn't love you, Maggie?"  
MacKenzie looked away. As kind and polite as he was, Benton Fraser could be very incisive and see right through at times.  
"No, they did. As confusing as it sounds, I think they hid those things from you because they loved you. You would have preferred to know the truth and it was a very awkward way to love on their part, but they feared they'd lose your affection and respect if you knew."  
"That's what I'm hoping it was."  
"It was, Maggie."  
"Well, I'm glad they say you don't lie."  
"What about you? Do you lie?"  
"…I suppose I don't always tell the whole tale, but I couldn't plain lie. Then again, it's tricky, isn't it? Sometimes we convince ourselves we are right and believe our perspective is the truth when it isn't. The human heart is a mystery."  
"'The heart is deceitful above all things, and it is desperately sick: who can know it?'" Sergeant Matthews quoted, catching MacKenzie's last words. "How is your investigation going, constables?"  
"We have confirmation on the bootlegging operation, sir," Fraser answered. "A liquor store employee gave us some clues but wouldn't name anyone for fear of property damage."  
"That's not reassuring. Is Elias involved?"  
"We don't think so. They only took advantage of him."  
"Any lead on his whereabouts?"  
"There's a good chance he's hiding in one of those cabins southeast of town," MacKenzie replied. "We were thinking of heading out there with Diefenbaker this afternoon so he could sniff around. I know the spot rather well."  
"Do you need any manpower?"  
"We should be fine, thank you."  
Sergeant Matthews returned to his office and Fraser threw his teabag in the trash can. MacKenzie grasped a small rawhide bag from her desk and offered it to Fraser:  
"Pemmican?"  
Fraser grinned and reached down for a morsel.  
"Is that bison?"  
"Yes. And some Saskatoon berries."  
A succession of mental images whirled around Constable Fraser's mind as he chewed on the dried meat.  
"I had a very vivid dream last night," he mused, rubbing his chin. "I rarely remember them so clearly. I can't shake it off."  
"A dream? What kind of dream?"  
"It was here. We were giving chase in the bush. There were many of us, many officers of the law. Our suspect was very elusive…I never even saw him, but it seemed like we'd been chasing him for a long time. Years, actually. He kept causing a lot of damage. We could never get to him and we were exhausted. At some point, I found myself near a lake and there was a log cabin there. The door was ajar, so I walked in. And I saw Aluki. A man was holding her in his arms; her head was resting on his shoulder and she looked very peaceful. I never saw his face because he had his back to me, but I could hear him weeping. He was crying about what had happened to her and to many others like her. His clothing was bright white, almost luminous. And I understood that this man had answers, a solution to end our chase. He'd actually been there for a very long time; we all knew about him but had not come to him or listened to him."  
"Was that a real place we know? Someone we know?"  
"I couldn't say. Dreams, you see…I saw one of his hands. There was a wound there."  
"He was bleeding?"  
"No, it was a scar of sorts, as if his wrist had been pierced all the way through."  
"You said his clothing was bright white?"  
"That's right."  
MacKenzie smiled.  
"Benton, did Jesus appear to you in a dream?" she giggled.  
But her smile faded immediately and they stared at each other in earnest. _We all knew about him but had not come to him or listened to him_. A strong conviction came upon Constable MacKenzie at once. Surely, Sarah Kudlak had understood something she had not.

Fraser and MacKenzie prepared for their excursion and drove as far as the road permitted. The police car was parked by a narrow trail leading deep into the bush; a piece of Fred Elias' clothing was handed for Diefenbaker to sniff and the officers let the wolf lead the way as they reached the first hunting cabin. Many of these were mere shelters, a few planks nailed together with rudimentary roofing, but some wealthier hunters owned well-maintained log cabins complete with furniture and cooking accessories. The Delta's terrain consisted mainly of serpentine lakes around which scruffy spruce trees stood in clusters amid vast stretches of lighter-coloured undergrowth. The officers crossed the hunting ground without any hint of Elias' passage. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when they discovered a log cabin on which the lock had been forced; Diefenbaker began barking loudly as they approached the construction. Smoking ashes from a nearby fire pit revealed human presence, but Elias was not inside. Fraser deduced the man had slept and found food there; soup cans had been opened, and a fishing rod the owner had left behind had been put to good use.  
"So this is where he's been staying all this time," MacKenzie murmured. "It's a long way from town."  
Diefenbaker jumped frantically and sniffed every corner until movement in the surrounding trees made him sit and turn to the window. The wolf stepped outside and headed for a clump of yellow shrubs. Fraser and MacKenzie watched as Diefenbaker began barking again, keeping at a safe distance from something that frightened him. The barking stopped; the animal cowered on the ground and remained absolutely still.  
"That's strange," Fraser said. "What's out there?"  
The vegetation was scarce and neither man nor animal could be seen in the vicinity. By all outward appearances, the arctic wolf was bowing to an invisible entity as if forbidden to budge and he was obedient. The officers wondered if something supernatural was taking place before their very eyes. They were both filled with trepidation and dared not approach either. Wind and birds quieted down, an uncanny silence filled the bush; long minutes passed before the boreal forest resumed its song. Then came a quiver in the low branches forty meters away as a dark-haired man passed in a flash between two trees.  
"It's Elias!" MacKenzie exclaimed.  
Fraser and MacKenzie bolted in pursuit. Elias left the rugged terrain for a shady dirt road as the brush slowed him down, but the officers were drawing dangerously close; he turned back to the wilderness for cover. Fraser and MacKenzie were filled with new vigour and determination to get their man. Yet fear was a potent stimulant and Elias proved surprisingly agile. Fraser seized his pistol hoping to startle the man or wound him to slow him down, but no bullet could stop Elias who avoided every one. Elias managed to outpace his pursuers and locate a hiding spot behind a tuft of green alder. He disappeared under the foliage and remained immobile as the constables ran in a new direction. Fraser soon realized Diefenbaker had not followed. The search went on for almost an hour. Admitting Elias had successfully eluded them, the constables reluctantly returned to the log cabin, expecting him to show up later for shelter. Diefenbaker was sitting by the door, looking back from the corner of his eye. Fraser crossed his arms and stared disapprovingly.  
"I don't understand this," MacKenzie declared.  
The wolf was instructed to hide inside while the constables climbed up a leafy poplar to conduct a stakeout until nightfall. They felt grateful not to have their red serge on but hoped the yellow stripes on their trousers would not give their location away. Fraser grasped his spyglass and began scanning the area at regular intervals. Perplexed ravens flying by would start and turn back as they found two RCMP officers already roosting in the branches. Fraser and MacKenzie shared some pemmican for supper, and Fraser got carried away in a few soliloquies about his childhood friend Innusiq, about the time he'd had to run from a caribou herd on the move. MacKenzie had to remind him to keep his voice down and thought to herself that Elias was not about to show up with all this chatter. The day was growing increasingly cold; the sky darkened and the wind picked up.  
"I don't think he's coming back," Fraser said, feeling rather stiff. "He knows we've found his hiding place."  
"We should check the other cabins."  
"We can look on our way to the car."  
"I'm cold."  
"Let's go."  
There was no more sign from Elias that day. It was too dark to venture into the wilderness and Diefenbaker would not cooperate. Fraser and MacKenzie returned to town worn out and empty-handed.

The investigation was put on hold the following day as Constable Fraser was assigned to highway patrol and MacKenzie took part in a substance abuse awareness campaign at the Samuel Hearne Secondary School.

It was a quarter to eight and the sun was low, bathing the Delta in its warm golden light, when Constable MacKenzie heard a plaintive howl coming from the bush. She looked outside and saw an elongated white form advancing towards the trailer.  
"Diefenbaker?"  
MacKenzie hesitated, hoping this was not a strange wolf wandering too close to town. She was relieved to recognize Diefenbaker's features when another silhouette appeared behind the animal. A dark-haired man holding a long weathered rope drew closer and closer; he looked down as he walked and MacKenzie froze as she realized Frederick Elias was standing right before her. The Inuvialuk stopped a few steps away from the porch and dared look up a moment. MacKenzie peered into Elias' eyes to survey his intentions; she could only see shame and contrition there, but she didn't feel an ounce of sympathy as she reflected on what Aluki Kudlak had endured and would certainly suffer in the years to come. Her perception of Elias had completely changed in the last few days. Apprehension, disgust and pity intermingled in her mind as she asked:  
"Fred, did you come to turn yourself in?"  
Elias stifled a sob.  
"Maggie, can I talk to you before we go to the detachment?"  
"I have no reason to trust you, Fred."  
"I have no weapon. Only this rope I meant to hang myself with."  
MacKenzie's heart was pounding.  
"I'm going to have to check you still."  
Elias nodded and MacKenzie performed a pat down before grabbing the rope and throwing it away in the grass. She let the man in, keeping a close eye on him until she could reach her pistol. Elias was led to the kitchen. MacKenzie sat across from him with a hand on her weapon.  
"What would you like to tell me?"  
Fred Elias couldn't find his words; MacKenzie's fear and severity greatly affected his impression of the friendly connection he had once entertained with her.  
"I wanted to say…I did wrong," Elias mumbled. "I know I did wrong."  
"Yes."  
MacKenzie's eyes were so cold Elias lost heart.  
"I never meant to hurt her, Maggie. Little Aluki, do you really think I would want to hurt her? I was drunk, I was not myself. I drink to get away from it all; it's always with me what they did."  
Elias paused and covered his face with his hands. He breathed deep sighs as anguish took hold of him like multitudes of icy hands crushing his chest.  
"You mean the school?"  
"…There are so many things you mounties don't understand. You don't know our stories; you don't know what you forced us to go through at the Grollier Hall. It was mounties like you sometimes who came to snatch us away from our mothers. Or force us to go back when we ran away. You would stand there and threaten them if they didn't let go! I saw it often. 'The scum,' is what the nuns called us. Took our language away, made us ashamed of what we were. I know I did wrong, Maggie, but what I did to her, I had it done to me a dozen times. It was the priest, Father Houston, who did it to me! And sober, too! The man of God! But I know he was no man of God, he didn't know the Creator at all. It was the Creator who stopped me from putting that rope around my neck, Maggie. He had to drag me to the bush to sober me up and make me see the truth. He didn't let you find me until he was done. I know he understands."  
Constable MacKenzie lost her composure as a powerful surge of empathy flowing from an outside source flooded her whole being. The image of Fred sitting before her became a blur and disappeared behind a veil of tears. MacKenzie could grasp the cycle as lucidly as ever. She saw the force's contribution to this dark legacy. Self-righteousness faded and she listened humbly.  
"You are going to arrest me, Maggie. And judge me for what I did. But will there be justice for me? Will you also judge Father Houston? He's still serving in the church Maggie, you know it. He got out of jail easy. They're protecting him. He's still out there, out in Manitoba. And those who starved us and those who beat us? What about them? Will there be justice for us?"  
MacKenzie looked down.  
"There's only so much I can do, Fred, you know that. Some things are beyond our reach. I know what they did at the Hall. But thank you for telling me your story. Thank you for trusting me. I _am_ sorry. I do feel the burden, you know. I know we are reaping what we've sown. Everything that's wrong with this town…I'm really sorry."  
Elias nodded.  
"Thank you for your tears, Maggie."  
MacKenzie wiped her face and remembered her duty.  
"If you'd want to do the right thing, you would tell us who those bootleggers you dealt with are. It would help greatly and could reduce your sentence. You know the kind of damage they can make around here, especially in the dry towns. They're making a thick profit out of people's misery. We know they're among us, but everybody's afraid to speak."  
"It was Morrison."  
"Jon Morrison?"  
"Some others. It was dark outside."  
MacKenzie was shocked. Jonathan Morrison was one of Inuvik's wealthiest residents. He owned the nicest house in town. He had moved in from Yellowknife a few years before and she had once accompanied him and her husband Casey on a fishing trip on the Delta. Tall, blond, charming; a sober man running his own business. She now understood what that business really was about.

Constable MacKenzie drove Fred Elias to the detachment. They were about to enter the building when she took the handcuffs off her belt.  
"I'm sorry, Fred, I have to."  
She recited the arrest caution; Elias was cuffed, identified and taken to a cell. MacKenzie was discussing the arrest with an Inuvialuit officer named Alunik when Fraser walked by, recognized her voice and overheard the conversation.  
"Benton, you're still here?"  
"I had to finish up on my paperwork."  
"Did you hear?"  
"I did."  
"Elias gave us a lead on the bootleggers. We're going on a raid. We better get their stock now before they leave and sell it this week-end. Clark and Alunik are coming. We could use a hand."  
"Let me get my vest."

Fraser returned with his bullet-proof vest and the four constables left the detachment in two police cars, heading for Jonathan Morrison's house on the east side of town. Dusk had set in and loud music could be heard coming from Morrison's living room. A black mini-van was parked by the door. Constable Clark inspected the passenger compartment using a flashlight, but saw no alcohol inside. Further exploration revealed a large amount of vodka and whiskey cases stored in what appeared to be Morrison's office. The constables cocked their weapons and covered every exit. The music was so loud that no one seemed to hear Alunik knocking on the front door. The knocking intensified and a young Inuvialuk answered, his face turning pale at the sight of the officer's uniform. He attempted to make a run for it, but Alunik grasped his sleeve and put his gun barrel against his spine. The heavy music covered their voices, and as Alunik handcuffed the man and dragged him to one of the police vehicles, his colleagues entered and found two more men sitting in the living room, their eyes glued to the television set. One of them was under the influence and barely resisted the arrest, cackling as if this was part of a fascinating hallucination.  
"Getting ready for a run?" MacKenzie asked, holding a vodka bottle she had picked up from the office. "Where's Morrison?"  
None of the men answered, but Clark threatened the sober suspect at gunpoint:  
"Where is he?"  
"He said he'd be back by nine."  
Fraser looked at his watch; it was 9:17. The two men were led outside and joined their accomplice in the vehicles.

As MacKenzie found herself alone to compile an inventory of the alcohol stored, a sound of footsteps came from the back door into the hall. Jon Morrison walked in, a dead Canada goose in one hand and a 12-gauge shotgun in the other.  
"What the heck?"  
"Stop right there!" MacKenzie shouted, pointing her pistol at the startled man.  
There was a shot. Clark, Fraser and Alunik saw Morrison run out into the darkness. Clark gave chase and intercepted the fugitive.  
"It's Morrison!" he announced, confiscating the bootlegger's firearm.  
A defiant Morrison was cuffed and led to the police car. Fraser inquired about his sister.  
"She's inside" was Alunik's answer.  
Fraser found it unusual that MacKenzie had not pursued. He shot a telling glance at Alunik. The two men walked back to the house where they found Constable MacKenzie lying unconscious on the floor with blood flowing from her left temple.  
"He shot her?" Alunik exclaimed in disbelief.  
Fraser suddenly felt weak and dizzy. He knelt down by the limp body, lifting and holding it without a sound.  
"MacKenzie?" Alunik cried, shaking her arm.  
Fraser could feel his heart in his throat; a strange blend of fear and sorrow had paralyzed him. Alunik was about to call for assistance when MacKenzie opened her eyes and looked around in confusion.  
"Did you catch him?" she asked.  
"MacKenzie? Are you wounded?"  
"He had a birdshot; he shot at close range and caught my vest. I lost my balance."  
"You're bleeding."  
MacKenzie sat up, wiped her forehead and looked at the blood on her fingers.  
"I must have hit my head falling."  
Fraser sat down on the floor, holding his head with both hands. He slowly felt his strength returning.  
"Where is he?"  
"It's all right, we heard the shot and caught him on his way out."  
MacKenzie rejoiced at this small victory and noticed her brother sitting behind her.  
"Ben? We should go tell Sarah."  
"Maggie, you need to rest a minute!" Fraser reprimanded, still shaken to the core.  
"Rest? There's no time for that. Come on, let's go!"  
MacKenzie was already on her wobbly feet and walking out of Morrison's house.  
"Good old Maggie," Alunik chuckled. "She's a tough one."  
Fraser was not amused. He got up to stop her, but Clark called out and asked him to help carry the seized merchandise to the vehicles. Fraser reluctantly complied. His sister was already on the Kudlaks' doorstep when he finally caught up her. MacKenzie knocked and Sarah came to the door.  
"Maggie?"  
"That's it, Sarah. They're in custody."  
"What?"  
"Fred turned himself in and gave us a name."  
"Are you serious?"  
"I'm dead serious."  
Sarah frowned as she noticed MacKenzie's bloody forehead.  
"Maggie, did you fight?"  
"No, I fell."  
"Come on in, let me clean you up."  
"Don't bother, it's just a scratch."  
"I don't want Aluki to see you like this."  
"She's still up?"  
Sarah Kudlak took MacKenzie to the kitchen and washed her face before rubbing some seal fat into the wound.

A young Inuvialuk holding Aluki in his arms walked in and looked at Constable Fraser inquisitively.  
"Are you the brother from Chicago?"  
"That would be me."  
"Hi, I'm Dave Kudlak."  
"Benton Fraser."  
The two men exchanged a firm handshake.  
"Right! Bob Fraser's son. We couldn't believe it when Maggie told us. So, you're back in the Delta? It's a change from the big city, eh?"  
"Quite. But it's not easier here. I hope I can contribute."  
"Maggie, are you hurt?" Aluki asked.  
"Your mom just fixed me up all fine."  
Aluki lay her head on her father's shoulder and put her arms around his neck.  
"How is she holding up?" Fraser inquired.  
"It's hard to say. She's not very talkative…She's been afraid to sleep in her own room. Been sleeping with us since."  
"It's late, Dave," Sarah said. "She can't keep her eyes open."  
MacKenzie stood up.  
"Are you going to bed, Aluki?"  
The child nodded. MacKenzie pressed her nose against Aluki's cheek for a kunik kiss.  
"Piqpagiyagit," she whispered.  
Aluki smiled and waved as her father carried her into the hall.

Fraser and MacKenzie were on their way out when Sarah Kudlak took her friend's hand and squeezed it warmly.  
"Thank you, Maggie."  
"Oh, I didn't do much, really. Fred had a change of heart out there in the bush, you know. I have no idea what happened, but I think your prayers were answered somehow."  
There was a wry smile on Sarah's lips. MacKenzie shook her head.  
"You know I'm no good at this whole godmother thing, Sarah. I still don't understand why you asked me."  
"We can't accomplish anything by ourselves. But the Creator's grace is enough."  
"Grace? Now you sound like an Anglican," MacKenzie teased with a grin.  
"I don't care. But I can see how love for truth and justice consumes you at times. I want you to communicate this to Aluki."  
Sarah's words acted as a blow. MacKenzie looked away; unworthiness made this request irrelevant at best.  
"Justice? You want a white woman to communicate a sense of justice to your daughter?"  
Sarah was startled. MacKenzie's tone had changed abruptly.  
"Maggie, you know I don't look at you in that way."  
Sarah had not suspected this. Inuvik's painful heritage and racial tensions had always been kept out of their conversations. Yet Maggie MacKenzie carried a load of guilt. Sarah accepted it as a balm and a proof of affection. Certainly this was a healthy response and confirmed the righteousness she prized in her friend. She wanted no distance to exist between them and she pressed MacKenzie's forehead against hers.

Fraser contemplated the beauty of their difference, Sarah Kudlak's free flowing black hair against MacKenzie's fair locks secured in a tidy bun; he strangely remembered why he had come back in spite of the ideal-shattering ugliness he had witnessed this past week. Perhaps the crooked could be straightened if there was a will to reconcile, repentance and a heart of forgiveness in the Place of Man.

Fraser and MacKenzie stepped out in the chill of evening.  
"How are you feeling?" Fraser asked.  
"Giddy. Got a bit of a headache."  
"You scared me half to death back there. I thought he'd shot you in the head and it was all over. Be careful, Maggie."  
"I wasn't being reckless, Benton, he walked in, panicked and got violent."  
"Well, this won't look good on his record."  
"Are you heading home?"  
"No, I'm taking you to see a doctor."  
"A doctor? I'm not sick."  
"You were knocked unconscious on the floor! You'll need someone to watch over you and wake you every few hours."  
"I can set my alarm clock."  
"Maggie, I do intend to follow Sergeant Matthews' instructions."  
"What instructions?"  
"To be my sister's keeper."  
"Great Scott…!" MacKenzie muttered under her breath.

And Fraser wondered if there wasn't a hint of a challenge in that exclamation.


End file.
